


Movie Night - Take Three

by Churbooseanon



Series: For Every Action, A Reaction [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve got time, there is a reason, and York just can’t keep his hands to himself. Too bad he mistakes Wash’s previous complacency for submissiveness. York is about to get a lesson he won’t soon forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night - Take Three

There was something about Wash that made York’s fingers itch. Something in the way the back of his neck was smooth and still held a tan after all their time up here. Something in the feathery texture of his hair. A lot of somethings in the way he filled out a shirt and how his pants cupped his ass so beautifully and how expressive his face could get. Maybe it was all of that together, or all of that and more. But no matter what it was he enjoyed every moment he could steal to watch his lover out of his armor. 

Even, of course, when it meant having to actually sit here on Wash’s bed watching the unreadable mess of action that was an inner colonies baseball game.

“Where did you even get this video?” York groans as the masses of uniformed bodies switched sides. 

“Same place you get your seemingly endless supply of popcorn,” Wash answered immediately, his attention clearly riveted to the game. “Now shush, I wanna watch this…”

“Yeah, yeah,” York grumbled. 

The only upside of the game was how focused his partner was on the plays, which meant York could allow his fingers to dance lightly over the relatively unarmored expanse of undersuit presented at Wash’s lower back. If he closed his eyes he could imagine how it would feel to be skin to skin. No, not imagine. Remember. That thought made him smile, and made his fingers press just a touch harder. Hard enough to finally draw the other man’s notice. 

“Stop,” Wash hissed, hand twisting behind his back to briefly knock York’s touch away. “I’ve got CQC session with South in two hours, and I want to finish watching my game first.”

“Ouch, CQC with South? That’s going to sting something fierce,” York warned, but otherwise he let Wash resettle briefly before letting his fingers ghost back down Wash’s backplate and finally pull over the undersuit just over Wash’s hip. Again Wash’s hand knocked him away after just a moment, but York didn’t stop there. Another two breaths and York let his hands glide over Wash’s shoulder. Another smack was his reward. 

York chuckled under his breath. Truth be told, he couldn’t help himself. There was just something about his younger lover that was so damn touchable. So perfect. 

But maybe letting his itchy fingers reach around and brush over the low armor stretch of Wash’s inner thigh had been pressing his luck. Definitely pressing his luck because almost immediately there was a grip on his wrist, fingers pressing painfully into the pressure points, and damn if Wash wasn’t squeezing. 

“What.” Wash demanded, voice level and cool for someone who was about to break his boyfriend’s wrist or at least try to. “Do you think. You are doing?” 

“Entertaining myself,” York whined in pain as Wash’s unhelmeted head twisted slightly to glare at him over a steel and yellow shoulder guard. The way his eyes were narrowed definitely worried York. 

“I said I wanted to watch the game. What part of that did you not understand?”

“Uh… the game?” York hazarded, pasting on the dopiest grin he had in place. It wasn’t possible for anyone to ever stay mad at him with this look in place. 

Except, apparently, Wash could stay mad in the face of a lot of things. 

“I said you could stay in my room to watch it with me if you would behave,” Wash continued in that same chilly sort of tone. “I said if you didn’t want to watch you could read a book. I said I wanted to get through this before my CQC. And you said okay. So what, may I ask, do you think you’re doing?”

For a while York thought, tried to think his way through the problem that was Wash’s mood. Of course thinking wasn’t easy with the pain in his arm, so he just blurted out what was on his mind. 

“North said I could,” York admitted, but at the same time he tried to switch tactics by pitching his voice low, down into the range that made his lover tremble with want every last time. 

“Who gave him the right to…”

“You’re my gift. I’m not allowed to unwrap you without him around, but I’m allowed to toy with the packaging. Shake it up a bit,” York purred near Wash’s ear, hoping to distract his younger lover enough to get his hand free. It was really starting to ache. 

“He doesn’t have the authority to give me,” Wash growled and geez that was a rare sound and making York wish they were both far more out of their armor. “Or the reason…”

“Our anniversary,” York countered, this time pitching his voice to a whisper before planting a light kiss on the back of Wash’s perfect, perfect neck. God his skin still managed to taste like cherry blossoms. Where was he getting the money to bribe Niner for such great soap or whatever? 

“Anniversary?” Wash asked, sounding confused. A confusion that was enough to loosen his grip a bit. 

“We finally won you over a month ago.”

Apparently, York chuckled to himself, it was possible to hear eyes rolling. It sounded like someone groaning. Someone with a voice an awful lot like Wash’s. 

“Idiot. I’m going to watch this game, and you’re going to keep your hands to yourself,” Wash insisted, finally releasing his grip on York. 

With a sigh York obliged and just settled down with his hands in his lap. He wasn’t going to make a fuss or a mess or anything. 

A resolution that lasted all of five minutes. 

“York…” 

“Yeah, Wash?”

“That’s my codpiece. If you want a dick to play with, use your own.”

“But yours is so much more fun,” York chuckled, his fingers fumbling for the releases on the sides of Wash’s armor. “Come on, darling, just a little…”

At times it could be hard to remember just how strong Washington was, even without the armor in full control. It was worlds harder to forget when Wash was moving, rolling off of the bed. Strong hands grabbed York by his chestpiece and hauled him off of the bed. Before York even had a chance to make any smart remarks he found himself slammed, hard, against the wall. 

“Shit,” he gasped, staring slightly downward into his lover’s burning eyes, and York couldn’t help but bite his lip. Hell, Wash didn’t even look like he was straining to keep him pinned there, and even when York tried to push off the wall he found himself all but immobilized. 

It was a strange thing for York, to be looking down at his lover, pinned to the wall, and unable to break free. Strange as normally he was used to being the one that put someone into these sorts of situations, Wash his victim more frequently than North these days. Yet there was something about it, about the intensity of Wash’s eyes, about how close they were, about the way Wash was holding him, that made him tremble. 

“I wanted to…” Wash began answering, leaning in ever closer and god the way his voice pitched low into that threat had repercussions York was certain neither of them had anticipated. 

Such as the moan, the dear god literal moan, that passed through York’s lips and stopped Wash’s words in their tracks. 

“Did… you just…” Light, a hungry light, leapt into Wash’s eyes, and York bit his lip rather than let himself get too hopeful. Still, his hands came up to rest on Wash’s arms, his fingers found the spots bare of heavy armor, and ye touched. 

“So would you mind… um… letting me go?” York asked. 

“I would.”

With that there were lips pressed hard against his, and York’s hands fell to Wash’s hips, trying to pull him forward. Hell if he could manage it though. Instead Wash’s hands seemed to tighten on his chestplate for a moment before he released York entirely. Not that he was gone, just that Wash’s entire attention seemed to be on letting his fingers flash across the various clamps and catches that held his armor in place. After a moment Wash was tossing York’s chestplate aside, and pulling him forward enough to catch the backplate and toss it after it’s mate. At once York attempted to move forward, only to find Wash’s hand hard against his chest, still holding him to the wall. 

“Oh no, Miles. You started this. You’re going to learn to deal with the consequences of your actions,” David growled, free hand working the catches to the lower pieces of Miles’s body armor.

“Please,” he found himself whimpering as Wash efficiently stipped the armor from his legs. “David… fuck, Nic’s going to be…”

“You should have thought about that before you started this,” David chuckled as piece after piece of armor fell to the floor. 

“You’re really going to just hold me here like this?” 

“No. In a minute you’re going to take off my armor. And you’ll do it without touching my undersuit.”

“Or else?”

The look that flashed across David’s face kept Miles from even daring consider it. Well, who was he to argue? Carefully he brought his hands up and started to push and pull at catches and sections of material. His fingers, shaking with the desire building up in him, took each heavy section and tossed it toward the pile of his own. Step by step he moved, attention only on the gray and yellow so his fingers would keep from sliding over Wash’s undersuit. Another time he might have disobeyed, might have touched, but the intensity of his lover was beautiful in that moment. He wouldn’t want to see it ruined. 

Everything was off and set aside just in time for David’s hands to slide down his back, pausing briefly to squeeze his ass before they gripped his thighs with almost bruising strength. Miles yelped as, with a single heave, his feet were no longer on the floor. Instead he was being lifted up against the wall, and instinctively his legs wrapped around David’s waist for balance. And for all the balance he was granted physically, it did nothing to cure the dizziness in his mind as he stared at the lust writ plainly in his lover’s eyes. 

“Shit,” he moaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he reveled in the feeling of David’s fingers pressing into his skin through his undersuit. How was it possible that his smaller lover was holding him up so easily?

“You look good like this,” David growled, possession in his voice, his hands squeezing tighter. 

“David,” he gasped, using every bit of the strength in his legs to try and pull David closer. 

“Hold on.”

The whispered words had Miles’s arms wrapped around his lover’s neck with no hesitation. Whatever David wanted of him, Miles desperately desired as well. But the waiting, the wondering, it was driving him mad. Almost as mad as the way David’s tongue flicked out over his lips. Those lips were supposed to be his, Miles thought. He was supposed to lean in and kiss them and press them open with his own tongue and none of that was going to happen with David teasing him like this. 

“What now?” Miles asked, knowing he wasn’t allowed to touch further without David’s okay. Perhaps if he did this new side to his partner would be taken away before he could truly revel in it’s presence. 

The question was answered in the form of one of David’s hands tightening its grip on Miles’s thigh and the other coming up, ungloved, to press against the back of his neck. For the life of him, Miles couldn’t remember that glove coming off, especially since David was still, more or less, fully armored. But slowly, oh so fucking slowly, David dragged his thumb down the center of Miles’s back, from neck to waist. The firmness of the touch slowly broke the pressure seal of the undersuit, and slowly exposed the burning heat of Miles’s skin to the cool air of the room. Of course it meant that at one point David had to pull back, letting York slip down some, so that his hand could freely move all the way down the expanse of Miles’s back. Then there was David’s hand sliding under the material of the suit, peeling it open with careful touches. 

“God,” Miles moaned as David worked the suit further and further open with surprising dexterity for someone who couldn’t see what he was working with. Meanwhile David’s lips had found Mile’s neck, working it with lips and teeth, leaving Miles panting. “Fucking hell, David. Fuck.”

“Shut up,” David growled as his hand returned to York’s thigh and squeezed it. “I don’t wanna hear another noise.”

“Please. Fuck, please…”

“I said be quiet.”

“David, please,” Miles whimpered. 

It only took a shift of David’s legs and a sharp twist for Miles not to be against the wall anymore. Instead he found himself being held up over the edge of David’s bed. There was only a moment for Miles to breathe as David bit his neck again, this time punctuated by a near snarl. Miles wanted to moan, to beg, to plead more, but he knew that wasn’t going to get him what he wanted. And god the things he wanted. 

“Did you forget the fact that you’re going to take off my armor?” David asked. “Get down. Remember, not a single touch to the undersuit or you go back to your room alone and unsatisfied.”

Which wasn’t something that Miles could handle. So when his partner put him down he just obeyed. Immediately Miles’s hands were placed on piece after piece of armor. Surely there had never been a point where he’d stripped armor off so quickly. Not his own when he was stressed and desired to rest. Not North’s when they came back from a frustratingly long mission and he just wanted a piece of his lover. In the here and now he had David’s armor off and set aside before he could dare to question it. 

“Good boy,” David cooed, and Miles groaned at the sound of the those words. And here he’d thought he’d gotten off on being in control. “Now… let’s get you stripped down.”

Miles grinned. Today was going to be good. Better than good. If the hungry look in David’s eyes meant anything, then he was going to remember this for a long, long time.


End file.
